


Mine

by queen_sinnamon



Category: VIXX
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Horror, M/M, Mild Gore, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_sinnamon/pseuds/queen_sinnamon
Summary: It was a game, a challenge even. Taekwoon was gifted in the supernatural and he endeavored to bust every myth he had ever heard since he was a child. This time, it was the Bloody Mary.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lacebunnybin's [fanart](https://twitter.com/LaceBunnyBin/status/784198928740683776)\--Check out her art, it's amazing.  
> It's a Halloween thing that I posted on twitter long long ago and forgot to put up here. Lmao I'm sorry, but I hope y'all enjoy it anyway. <3

It was a game, a challenge even. Taekwoon was gifted in the supernatural and he endeavored to bust every myth he had ever heard since he was a child.  
  
This time, it was the Bloody Mary.

It was simple; Stand in front of a mirror, lights out but a candle in hand, and chant her name. "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary". Three times, at the stroke of 3:33am.  
  
He hadn't expected anything to appear, really, when he stood in front of his family's grand mirror. He was convinced it was a hoax, but he had to try anyway, for formality's sake.  
  
Candle in one hand, a voice recorder in the other, he checks his wrist watch. 3:31am. "This is Jung Taekwoon, and I'm ready to challenge the Bloody Mary," he says, slipping the recorder into his chest pocket and stepping closer to the mirror. "Tonight we'll see if this is a horror or a hoax." He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, already prepared for the disappointment of finding nothing when he opens them again. "Bloody Mary."  
  
He feels a draft blow in, dry and cold to his skin. The caretaker had probably left a window open again.  
  
"Bloody Mary."  
  
He hears the wax of his candle splutter, but the heat of its light remains and there is no telltale smoke to tell it had gone out. Ugh. Substandard products, really. He should have just gone for a lamp.  
  
"Bloody Mary."  
  
All is silent when he utters the last word, and he almost sighs, the disappoint already prickling at him. Then he opens his eyes, and he finds, looking back at him, his reflection, smiling when his lips were a neutral line. He says nothing, but the surprise must have registered on his face because the smile widens and his reflection's face changes.

High cheeks becoming slim and angular, thin lips stretching into a wide mouth, lips full and deathly pale, sharp eyes rounding out to large inky pools, completely black and dripping red down his handsome face.  
  
His heart pounds in his chest and he realizes he had stopped breathing. It was real.

The Bloody Mary was real, and it was a man, his face preserved in what Taekwoon assumed was its state as in his death, hauntingly beautiful and eternal, and staring at him with amusement. "You're not afraid," says the bloody man, his voice deep, the sound coming from all directions as if he were on speakers, and it wasn't a question, but Taekwoon shakes his head in answer anyway. "Others would have ran by now."  
  
"No." He was surprised he still had a voice. "I invited you, didn't I? You're real."  
  
The image does not answer and instead comes forward, and Taekwoon half expects him to bump his nose against the glass until he realizes, belatedly and frustrated with himself, that the laws of physics probably didn't apply to the Bloody Mary. His face first, passing through the transparent wall, then his neck, his shoulders, his arms, and Taekwoon found himself raising his free hand in invitation to the other.  
  
The image--No, the man, solid now, even as smoke rose from his body and curled up into nothing, reaches out but stops just before the tips of their fingers brushed. "Won't you be missed?"  
  
"I don't care." It was reckless and foolish, but the more he stared at this mirage, come to life in front of him, the more he realized he had spoken true. He didn't care.  
  
The Bloody Mary isn't a hoax. For the first time in his entire life, a creature of another world had appeared to him. The spectres and the faint presences he had encountered before seemed like nothing.

Taekwoon knows, intuitively, that he would take him there, spirit him away. He takes the bloody man's hand in his, that single touch freezing his fingers in place, turning his skin blue from where they were connected and crawling up his arm. He couldn't see it through the sleeves of his suit, but he could feel it, leeching out his life and choking the air out of him as it reaches his throat, his vision turning black.

 

* * *

 

The lady of the house is distraught.

The young master has been missing for days. The last they saw him, he was heading to the basement with a candle in hand, fully aware that he was on another of his silly ghost-hunting quests. When he did not turn up for breakfast the following morning, they had assumed he had fallen asleep there, and a helper had been sent to fetch him, only to return with no one.

The master wasn’t there, and the mild concern that he had gone off in the middle of the night turned into worry that he had gotten himself in danger.

The police were called. A search party was assembled to scour the woods around the property. Servants ordered to search every nook and cranny of the manor, even the areas closed for renovation.

Still, there was no sign of the young master, except for his pocket record, found on the basement floor by a maid.

Taekwoon’s mother had immediately played the tape, desperate for any clue of what happened to her son and where he had gone. Taekwoon’s voice played, introducing the ritual and the beginnings of it before the speaker crackled and she could hear nothing but static, mild at first and then growing in intensity until it hurt her ears and she dropped the player to cover them.

Then there was silence, and a voice, breathy soft but its deepness the complete opposite of her son’s high pitch, said only one word. “Mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥  
> If you enjoyed, liked, or loved this fic, please let me know by leaving a comment, kudos, or a little gift to me through [here](http://PayPal.Me/ChaJungPiggybank).
> 
> It's not a requirement at all, it's all completely up you. I would just be very very grateful for whatever feedback you would give me.  
> Have a nice day! ♥


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